nowhere to run
by katriel1987
Summary: Who would you rather hear screaming, Sam—your beautiful brother, or that breakable little girl?


**Title:** nowhere to run

**Summary:** Who would you rather hear screaming, Sam—your beautiful brother, or that breakable little girl?

**Rating:** M

**Spoilers:** "Born Under a Bad Sign"

**Warnings:** Non-explicit non-con; disturbing violent death of an OC. _Very_ dark subject matter, even darker than what I usually write. (Consider yourself warned.) Not a deathfic, at least as far as the boys are concerned.

**Characters:** Sam, Dean, Meg-demon, and an _extremely_ unfortunate OFC. In that order.

**Pairings:** Implied possessed!Sam/OFC non-con. No Wincest.

**Word Count:** 580

**Author's Note:** Every time I think _**Echoes**_ is finally going to get finished, something like this happens. First I stole two sentences from _**Echoes**_ and turned them into "Dust"; now I'm stealing no less than _ten_ sentences and turning them into this ficlet. Once the idea popped up, it just wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. This is a very twisted AU of "Born Under a Bad Sign".

Here there be dark. Bring a flashlight.

----

Sam screams in his sleep sometimes, _nononono stop don't!,_ and Dean's pretty sure it has nothing to do with Steve Wandell.

Dean's always there to pull him out, a steadying hand on his shoulder, talking in a low, soothing voice: _Wake up, Sam. Hey, it's okay. It's okay, dude, it's me._

Sam always comes up wide-eyed and open-mouthed, gasping for air like he hasn't breathed in years. He won't talk about the nightmares, won't say a word even though Dean is the one who rubs his back in slow, gentle circles while he pukes afterward.

There are clues, though, in the words he cries before Dean manages to wake him, his desperate voice splintering into shrapnel that cuts straight through Dean's chest.

_Leave her alone!_ Sam begs, half-awake, long limbs flailing so wildly that an elbow catches Dean in the eye and he goes down hard. The next night Sam keens, _No, don't hurt her, stop it, please!_

It's killing Sam—the incessant nightmares, the concrete daytime silence enclosing them—so Dean finally gets up the nerve to ask, _Who was she?_

The look on Sam's face scares Dean, makes him decide never to ask again. For a moment, Sam just...goes away, his face pale, eyes blank. He walks out and doesn't come back for hours.

Dean doesn't know what to do.

----

The guy is tall and built, all long sleek muscle. He has gorgeous green-brown eyes and a dimpled smile. She gets a crick in her neck just looking up at him, but there's something about his soft, calm voice that makes her feel safe. She trusts him right up until he slams her against the wall.

She dies smelling sulfur.

----

_I'll give you a choice, Sam: your brother, or the cute little waitress we met earlier,_ Meg says inside Sam's head. He stares down at Dean, unconscious, sprawled helpless on the floor, denim and leather and fragile skin.

_So pretty,_ Meg whispers.

Sam wants to scream and beat his fists against the glass box she's closed him in, but it won't help. So he decides.

----

It takes a while, but Dean finally tracks down the newspaper article.

She was an eighteen-year-old waitress named Julie. Someone raped and strangled her in an alley. She was tiny—5'1", 100 pounds—and the attack was brutal. The article says she would probably have died of internal injuries even without the strangulation. Dean wants to throw up, but he forces himself to keep reading.

The only witness said he'd seen a man walking away from the alley: young, very tall, shaggy dark hair, plaid shirt and jeans.

Dean closes the computer, puts his face in his hands, whispers _Oh GOD, Sam. Oh God._

----

The girl twists and begs and cries as Meg pins her down with Sam's body, and all Sam can think is _I'm so sorry._

For a long time after, every time he catches himself watching a woman walk past, he'll remember Julie's tiny frame beneath him and how she broke and shattered and bled, and he'll wish Dean had shot him.

----

_We're going to break one of them, Sam,_ Meg croons with barely contained glee, and Sam rages at the way she includes him in her sick plans. _We're going to tear one of them apart. Which one would you rather hear screaming? Your beautiful brother, or that breakable little girl?_

Knowing that he's fallen, knowing he'll hate himself forever, Sam replies, _The girl._

**-finis-**


End file.
